


last light

by heejinnien



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:49:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heejinnien/pseuds/heejinnien
Summary: to whoever loves you next, i hope that you'll accept and cherish them like you never did for me.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Reader
Kudos: 5





	last light

As you push open the door to your penthouse, the only sound is your heels against the cold, marble floor.

The room is dark, and you fumble around for a few minutes before finally locating and flipping on the light switch. The room is cold and empty, and uneasiness settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Chan?”

You are greeted with nothing but the echo of your voice, taunting you. A slight frown settles on your lips as you move further into the large living room connected to the front foyer.

Now that you are out of the foyer, light streams into the living area. You are greeted with the gorgeous view of the city that would normally take your breath away, the back wall constructed entirely out of glass and one of the things you love most about your home. The sun is setting, golden rays framing the steel and glass of the city’s buildings.

A small kitchenette is staged off to your right, and you set your purse down on the counter located in the center, eyes scanning the room for any sign of your soulmate’s presence.

The last you had seen of your soulmate was a few days ago, before you had left for an important business trip. Ruminating on the memory, you recall the way Chan’s smile hadn’t quite met his eyes, the coolness of his lips on your cheek, details that you had brushed aside and replaced in the forefront of your mind with the itinerary of your trip.

The uneasiness that had begun to settle before now twists in your stomach, making it impossible for you to ignore its presence. You venture deeper into the penthouse, checking the other rooms and repeatedly calling your soulmate. Still, the only sound that greets you is your own, and the only things that greet you are cold, empty rooms.

You pull out your cell phone, subconsciously chewing on the inside of your cheek. It’s a bad habit that you had developed in college, something Chan pointed out multiple times. You quickly ring the aforementioned person’s number, but you are quickly sent to voicemail. Chan’s cheery voice blasts from your phone’s speakers, informing you that he is “currently unavailable, but will return your call ASAP as possible.”

Your lips quirk as Chan’s giggles filter through your phone’s audio. You were with him when he recorded it. He had just finished watching all of the episodes of The Office, and he had insisted that he include that in his voicemail.

The memory makes your heart wrench. That was one of the many things that you and Chan had disagreed on. He was quirky and loved to crack jokes, while you were serious. Jokes had no place in your world, a world of cutthroat business and robot-like efficiency.

On numerous occasions, you had wondered why the universe had deemed you soulmates, and not just in the metaphorical sense. His name was tattooed in an elegant script on your wrist, a design you had long since memorized and could trace in your sleep.

You recall your first meeting, nostalgia filling you.

You had recently graduated from college and begun an internship with a local business firm in the city. Before, you had lived in the rural outskirts of your country, and you were nervous about living in a new place.

You were running late that day, you recall. Your alarm hadn’t gone off so you had woken up an hour later than usual. You were running through the city streets, repeatedly glancing down at your phone and watching the clock increase with growing anxiety. You had just passed the outside of a coffee shop and were gripping your phone tightly in both hands, preparing to send a message to another intern and asking them to inform your boss that you’d be late when you ran into him.

It was like slamming into a wall, and before you could register what was happening pain was radiating from your chin all the way down to your ankles. You stumbled backwards, arms wildly flailing in an effort to keep yourself upright when a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked.

You had stopped your descent backwards but the new force caused you to change momentum, your body suddenly hurtling forward. You slammed into the same wall as before, this time the impact not as jarring. As your senses began to orient, you became vaguely aware of a voice asking if you were okay.

“Hello? Are you alright?”

As soon as you realized the precarious position you were in, arms wrapped around an unknown man, you quickly jumped back, almost falling over backwards but managing to right yourself at the last moment. Your gaze travelled up on the man in front of you, from the chest you had been pressed against moments earlier to his warm, blue eyes.

As you locked eyes, it had felt as though the world melted away around you. In the present, you snort at that thought; you had never been particularly cheesy. For just a moment, it had been just you and this stranger. You had stared at him dumbly, heart racing, and that’s when you felt the itching sensation in your wrist.

It was minor at first, like an annoying bug bite and you ignored the itch, unwilling to move and scare away the man in front of you. The itch quickly grew to an unignorable burn, and you gasped and wrenched your jacket sleeve upwards.

There, on the previously unmarred skin of your wrist, was a name. You stared at it, disbelief coursing through your veins. There were stories of course, of people finding their soulmates, but nobody you knew had and you had written it off as an old fairytale.

“Christopher Bang.”

You hadn’t realized that you had read aloud until a voice answered, “Call me Chan.”

That moment wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

After you had both apologized profusely, you had exchanged numbers, and that was the beginning of your relationship.

Amidst your reminiscing you wander back into the kitchen, wondering if you should call one of Chan’s friends, maybe Jisung or Minho. You set your phone on the counter, and as you do so you notice a white envelope on the otherwise barren surface that you had missed before. Written on it in an all too familiar script is your name, and you quickly rip it open, hands shaking as your eyes devour the letter’s contents.

Dear Y/N,

I still remember the first time we met, when you ran into me outside the coffee shop. (This makes you snort, as you distinctly remember that it was him that ran into you.) I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen before, and when I found out we were soulmates I felt as though I was the luckiest person in the universe.

Do you remember our first date? When I attempted to book a reservation downtown at the Noir, attempted being the key word here. When we arrived, the hostess told us that we didn’t have a reservation so we ended up eating at a pizza parlor down the block. Like in the movies, it started to rain, and by the time we both ended up by our cars we were drenched. And we kissed outside your car, and nothing could have been more perfect.

Two years later, I asked you if you wanted to marry me outside that same pizza parlor. By that time you had just begun your dream career while I was still drifting, unsure of my path in life. That didn’t matter to you, and we had a small wedding with just our closest friends and family. We were happy.

Are you still happy? You began to come home later and later, would go away for longer and longer periods of time. I saw how happy your job made you, and I tried my best to support you.

I’m not sure where along the way I gave up on us.

Somewhere along the way I realized that you would never love me like how I wanted. You were always away on business trips, and when we were together it was like you didn’t even want to be with me. The space between us grew until I couldn’t even see you anymore, and the girl I once loved was gone.

I’m not bitter about it. I do think that maybe the universe can be wrong about some things, that maybe our meeting wasn’t destined after all. That we were a fluke, a momentary lapse of judgement by the greater gods.

Maybe we’ll have another chance at love. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and I don’t regret meeting you. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you find happiness.

To whoever loves you next, I hope that you’ll accept and cherish them like you never did for me.

Chan

You stare at the letter, unable to process its contents. Your mind scrambles to form a coherent thought, and you don’t realize that you are crying until the letter is stained with a myriad of tears.

You snatch your phone up, quickly dialing Chan’s number before you can stop to think about your actions. Like before, the call goes to voicemail, and letting out a desperate sob you dial once again.

This time, a click informs you that someone has picked up. There’s a momentary pause, and then, “Y/N?”

“Chan,” you let out a relieved sob. “Where are you? Please, we can talk about this.” Chan remains silent, and you feel desperation twist inside your stomach. “Please, I’m sorry, I love you — ”

“Don’t do this,” Chan interrupts you, voice sharp. “Don’t do this, Y/N. It was hard enough to leave you, can’t you just leave me alone?”

Chan’s words act as a knife to your heart, twisting, twisting. “Please,” you whisper, voice almost inaudible, and you wonder if the phone can hear you, if Chan can hear you.

“I’m sorry,” Chan’s voice is ragged. “If you ever loved me, please don’t contact me again.”

Before you can let out another plea, your screen flashes to inform you that the call has ended. You let out an inhuman wail and sink to your knees, unable to find the strength to hold yourself up.

You sob, and whatever love you once had fades away with the last of the sun’s rays until you are shrouded in darkness.


End file.
